


Bring You Back a Star

by Hllangel



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Happy Ending, M/M, Outing, Past Relationship(s), Where We Are Tour, tourfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nick, have you seen this?" Finchy turns his screen around. It's the worst possible time for this, since it's not a normal show. They've been announcing all the guests for Big Weekend, once of which is One Direction themselves, and there have been people in and out of the studio all morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring You Back a Star

**Author's Note:**

> I put out a call for prompts on tumblr last weekend, and Anon wanted happy Nick/Harry, accidental coming out. Well, this is what happened, even though it's not all that happy in the beginning and the coming out isn't exactly accidental. But there is a happy ending? 
> 
> Many thanks to [Sunsetmog](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog) and [Karaokegal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/karaokegal/pseuds/karaokegal) for beta-reading (even if Kgal knows nothing about these idiots other than that I talk about them), and [Sunsetmog](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog) for the britpick. Also to [Carswinky](http://carswinky.tumblr.com) for putting up with my neediness while trying to pound out a happy ending and finish this. Any remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from Harry's demo, "Don't let me go" (thanks [Melia](http://ianchaloner.tumblr.com) for telling me about this song. I hate you forever.) 
> 
> This is a work of fiction based on the lives and likenesses of real people. If you're one of them an you're reading this, I'm so, so sorry. 
> 
> Additional warning for ambiguous cheating, more notes at the end.

The pictures are blurry and grainy and underexposed, and perfectly innocent in terms of uncovered body parts. Except for how it's not perfectly innocent, because it's clearly Nick, and his hands are clearly on Harry's backside, grinding their hips together, laughing into each other's mouths. There are three pictures in total; it's hard to make out faces, but the clothes give them away because it's from Poppy's hen do, and there had been pictures in all the papers at the time, and they still make the rounds on tumblr. 

Which is how Nick finds out about it. 

In the middle of his show. 

"Nick, have you seen this?" Finchy turns his screen around. It's the worst possible time for this, since it's not a normal show. They've been announcing all the guests for Big Weekend, once of which is One Direction themselves, and there have been people in and out of the studio all morning. 

They're by themselves at the moment, but it's not going to last for long. Thank god the microphones are off because Nick can't help the "oh fuck" that escapes when he sees what it is.

"That's _real?_ " Matt asks, incredulity plain in his voice. "It's not just tumblr and photoshop?" How the hell has Matt had _time_ to browse tumblr this morning? 

Nick remembers that night with a fuzzy sort of clarity. He hasn't managed to see Harry all that much in the last few months, what with him moving to Los Angeles. They haven't been properly together in ages, but at the time Harry hadn't been seeing anyone else. They'd felt safe, at a private party, in a private club, with a mess of people who should have known better than to let the pictures taken inside get out. 

"What time is it in South America?" Nick asks. It's probably the middle of the night. He can't call. He _shouldn't_ call. Fuck, Harry's in the first week of his tour, but he needs to know about this. And Zane's due in the studio in a minute to talk about Big Weekend, and announce the new music stage lineups. 

The world clock on Nick's phone says it's in the early hours of Monday morning for Harry. Nick breathes a sigh of relief when he looks up the tour schedule and finds that there's not a show today. He calls as soon as he hands the reins over to Fearne, taking refuge in the empty Live Lounge. 

"Hello?" Harry's voice is slower and more slurred than usual when he answers, and Nick can't quite tell if he's drunk or sleepy. 

"Hiya, you alright?" 

Harry sounds immediately more alert when he hears who it is. Nick doesn't call like this, ever. "What's wrong? Am I on radio again?" 

"Look, I'm sorry about calling in the middle of the night, and I can't talk long because I’m still at work, and we're doing all the Big Weekend announcements today so there are hundreds of people around, but Finchy found some pictures on tumblr." Nick is doing a terrible job of explaining this.

"That's not new," Harry says. They'd once spent a night going through and actually reading some of what people posted about them, laughing about how wrong it was, before tossing their phones aside, laughter turning into something else entirely. "You sure I’m not on radio this time?" 

"They're from Poppy's party. Inside the club." Nick can hear the exact moment Harry remembers what he's talking about, when the drinks and the warm, sweaty atmosphere had finally got to them. He knows that Harry's absolutely going to take this seriously, because that's not something Nick would ever say on his show. 

"Fuck," Harry says. "I've got to go wake up our publicist." 

Nick has to make that same call, too. "I'm sorry." 

"Go finish work. I'll phone you later." 

Nick hangs up without waiting for any sort of goodbye, and calls his own publicist. He knows he's probably making a bigger deal of it than it really deserves; tumblr is hardly a reliable source, and things that are big there aren't necessarily a problem, but now that the pictures are out, he needs to watch it. 

There go his precious few free hours today. 

Aimee's waiting when he gets home, and she's got a coffee for him while the dogs wrestle over a toy in the living room. "Ian called me," she says, wrapping him in a hug. 

"That had better be an Irish coffee." 

She ignores him. "Any idea about where the pictures came from?" 

Nick shakes his head. There's no real way to tell until they get someone to track down screen names and emails, and that's definitely not Nick's area of expertise. "Don't know yet. Claire probably has someone on it. Or Harry's people do." 

"You talked to him, then?" 

"Woke him up, I think. Or he hadn't gone to bed yet. He's in South America somewhere." Aimee gives him a look, like she knows he knows exactly where Harry is, and probably what hotel (and okay, he does, but that's besides the point).

"You alright?" 

Nick is, mostly. At least for now. The next few days might change all of that. 

Claire calls at half eleven. "None of the tabloids have picked it up yet, though I hear they're trying to dig for a source that's not tumblr. Not that they care about journalistic integrity, but you both could sue them if they don't have at least some semblance of facts. They're offering a lot of cash for the paper trail." 

Aimee rubs his back while he listens to Claire. "I also talked to Harry's people. John agreed with me, that we should let it lie for now. Tumblr has a reputation of wanting to see pretty boys fucking and for blowing things out of proportion. We'll deal with it if it becomes more substantial." 

"Okay," Nick croaks out. "Finchy's the one who found it because he can't stay off the internet. And Ian can't keep off the Daily Mail. I'll let you know if anything else surfaces." 

"I've got people on it too, love. We'll know right away." 

Nick feels useless; there's nothing for him to do, nothing he can do to keep this from exploding his life. It's not that he regrets having been with Harry, he can't do that, not ever. Not even with how bitter he feels about it some days. He definitely doesn't want this to happen to him, it's the worst thing, to have your life coughed up online without the ability to say _stop_.

~*~

Aimee's still around when Harry calls, but she takes one look at the caller ID and scoops up Puppy and Thurston to take them out, leaving Nick alone with his ex-boyfriend who's just been outed, and who is half a world away.

"Hiya, you alright?" he attempts to sound somewhat cheerful, at least. 

Harry sounds completely wrecked in return. "Tell me this isn't all that bad, Grim." He's rough, and sounds near tears, and Nick can still hear muffled sounds in the background that are probably screaming fans. Or maybe the other lads. He wants to reach through the phone line and gather Harry into his arms, and into a quiet room even if it's only for a few minutes. 

"It's just tumblr for now," Nick says, parroting Claire's words, because he doesn't have any of his own. He knows what people say about him online, what Harry's _fans_ say about him, and if this gains legs it's going to bring out the worst of it, again. Yes, Harry had been seventeen when they'd met, but that's still above the age of consent, and they hadn't actually slept together until after Harry's birthday anyway. "You know what they're like. Half of them are convinced you're sleeping with Tomlinson, and the other half are convinced that nights on the bus are basically orgies." 

That gets him a laugh, at least. It's short and stilted, but it's there. "Well there was that one time," Harry says. He tries to laugh again, but it doesn't really work. 

"How are you, Harry, really?" 

"Don't know. I know it's just the internet, but if it gets bigger I could be in the shit. I was never going to say anything before we finished. And I'm worried that it'll blow back on Jeff the way it did on you. God, Nick, we were just getting started." 

Intellectually, Nick knew that Harry probably had a new boyfriend, even if Harry hadn't told him yet. He remembers the days when Harry would get off a plane and immediately come find him. Now, anything more than three days off and he's on a flight out to Los Angeles. The confirmation cuts just a bit deeper into the barely-healed wounds in his heart. He hadn't expected Harry to wait forever, and he's always been impulsive, but to hear Harry talk about his new boyfriend like maybe they had a future, like the possibility that he would come back to London, to _Nick_ , isn't even on his mind is the worst part of it. 

"I'm sorry, Haz," Nick says, not sure what he's really apologising for. For the world being shit, for the downsides of Harry's job that no one had told him when he was sixteen and chasing a dream, for his own broken heart and inability to let go of one of the best people he's ever known. 

"I know. I'm sorry too." 

They sit that way for a while, not talking, just listening to each other. Nick still wants to reach out and tug on his curls, bury his face in Harry's neck and breathe him in. "You should try to get some sleep, yeah?" he says, eventually. 

"Probably," Harry agrees. "I've had a coffee though. Or three." 

Nick smiles, small and fond. "Like that ever mattered to you." He hopes Harry can hear it in his voice. 

"Heyyyyyyyy." Maybe Harry can tell that Nick really wants to be off the phone right now because he then says, "I'll try, though." 

"Talk to you soon," Nick says, and hangs up. He texts Aimee that it's safe to come back, and checks his diary to see where he needs to be, and when. _It's nothing,_ he tells himself. _It won't go anywhere._

~*~

The story grows legs and runs away on Thursday. Nick generally gets a cab to work in the morning, so he doesn't see any newsagents on his way in. Instead, Tina pulls him aside after the pre-show meeting, when she's supposed to be rehearsing her script for the news, and he's supposed to be dropping in to say hello to Gemma.

"The Sun posted it a few hours ago," she says, handing over her notes. It's not in the script, but she's got the article printed out, if it can even be called such, headline screaming _Gay for Grimmy?_ just above the blurry photos from the party. "Look, it's just The Sun, which is absolute rubbish, you know that, but it's out there. I'm sorry, Nick." 

"I've got to make a few calls." Claire's going to love him today, he can just tell. He's got about ten minutes before his show starts, which isn't enough time, so he drops by Gemma's studio and asks if she'll cover for him for a few minutes, and hands over Tina's printout. 

"Shit," she says. "Yeah, of course." 

"I'll tell Matt, and I should be in by the second link. At least I hope." 

Claire answers on the first ring, even though it's fuck-off o'clock for most people that aren't Nick. Or who aren't publicists with clients who have just been plunged into the shit. 

"Have you actually read it yet?" She asks him instead of saying hello like a normal person. 

He supposes she's forgiven, because this is going to eat her life for ages, too. "Tina showed me the headline when I came in and I called right away." 

Claire heaves out a sigh so long and loud that Nick can still hear it when he pulls his phone away from his ear. "They're saying that you both refused to comment, which is tabloid-speak for denial, which everyone will take as confirmation." 

"Did they even ask?" 

"There was a badly headlined email sent around two this morning. Unknown contact, badly spelled subject line. Designed to make me ignore it. It was posted at half three. I slept through the full thing, I'm sorry." 

"That one's on them," Nick says. "If they pulled the same stunt on his team I'll bet they've got papers being written up for a legal case already." He's not even started work yet and he wants to go home and collapse into bed with Puppy. And maybe a glass or ten of wine. "What do I do now?" 

"Go do your show. Don't talk about it. Make sure your producers know not to comment about it, and be sure anyone who calls in isn't going to mention it. Screen carefully. I'll have a brief on where this goes by the time you're done. I'll come by Radio 1 at ten." 

"Alright," Nick says, feeling sick. He's only had half a protein shake so far this morning, and he wants to go heave all of it up. Maybe he'll do that, he's still got a few minutes, with Gemma covering the opening link. 

"Eat something," Claire says, like she's reading his mind. "I can't have you going into this on an empty stomach. It'll make it all feel worse, and then you'll really be useless." 

Nick hangs up and stares at his phone for a few minutes, debating. He texts Matt first, asking how long he's got, and once he confirms that he's got about seven minutes, he dials. 

Harry has definitely been crying, this time; he's not even attempting to cover up the sniffles he's got going, snuffling in a teary breath to say, "Hi." He sounds so grim and hopeless and Nick doesn't think he's ever heard him like this. Not even when they were actually breaking up. He has no idea what to do, what he can do from this far away. 

"Oh, Haz," Nick says because he can't find any other words. He's sure he's got more than that, he talks for a living and he's good at his job, but he's completely useless in the face of a broken Harry Styles thousands of miles away. 

Harry sniffles again. "Can you come out here? If I get you a ticket, can you fly out tomorrow for the weekend?" 

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" It's phenomenally stupid, really. Nick's just got back from a long and draining two weeks off, just getting back into the swing of things on the show. And Harry's on _tour_ right now. Nick flying out to meet the tour is just asking for everyone, and not just The Sun, to pick up the story. 

"We're in the same place all weekend," Harry says, voice coming through stronger. "I can get you on a plane tomorrow and you can meet us at the hotel."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Nick says gently. Of course he knows the tour schedule, and if he didn't, Harry had got into his calendar and added all the dates months ago. "You've seen the story." 

"Fuck that," Harry says, suddenly fierce. He's agitated now, more and more with every word. "Fuck all of it. I don't care. I want to talk to you. I need to, and I can't fly back there so you have to come here. No one has to know, you can stay in my suite. Fuck, Nick, I need you here."

His voice cracks on the last words, and all the fight leaves Nick in a rush. This is definitely a stupid idea, but he can't say no. He'll be packing a bag as soon as he gets home. "Yeah, alright. Send me a ticket, popstar." The endearment slips so easily from his lips, cutting into his heart as it does. He hasn't called Harry that in months. He'll have to ask Ian if he and Aimee can take Puppy for the weekend. They probably won't say no. "I have to go, love. I've got a show to do. I'll call you after, yeah?" 

"Yeah," Harry says. "I'll send you the tickets."

~*~

Nick goes to the airport directly after the show on Friday. Harry had booked him into first class, naturally, and Nick has just enough time to get a coffee from the airport lounge before he has to board the plane. He goes as late as possible, to minimize the number of people who see him in the boarding area for a flight to Argentina and make the correct assumption: that he's going to see Harry. Claire isn't going to be happy about this, especially as Nick hasn't told her at all, but she's good at her job and if it gets out that he's there, she'll deal with it. Nick can't really bring himself to care either way. He's been mostly numb since yesterday morning, swimming through a fog of his own thoughts.

He's got fourteen hours on a plane to figure out what he's going to say to Harry when he gets there. For once in his life, Nick doesn't buy in-flight wireless, opting instead to text Harry at the last minute that he's made it to the plane, and switch off his phone just as the cabin doors are closed.

It's midnight by the time he gets to the hotel. It's besieged by teenage girls, and Nick shrinks back as they pass slowly through the barrier, the girls fighting to see who is in the car as security holds them back. He wonders if they'd recognize him if they could see through the tinted glass. Probably. Nick learned long ago not to underestimate One Direction fans. 

The driver hands over a key, which lets Nick bypass the lobby entirely and go straight up to Harry's room. He's exhausted from the past week of worry and the long flight on top of it, and he has no idea what to expect when he opens the door. He's too tired to expect anything. 

What he finds is Harry, curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea in his hands. He's shirtless, and it's warm in the room but he's still got a blanket tossed over his shoulders, and his hair is slipping loose from the ponytail he's put it in. He looks so much younger than he has been for a long time, especially when he turns to look at Nick when the door closes, eyes big and bright. 

Nick drops his bag by the door, and watches Harry for a sign of what he should be doing. Harry unfolds himself slowly from the couch, getting his miles of legs under him before he crosses over to where Nick's standing and pulls him into a hug. 

"Hi," Nick breathes into his neck, Harry's hair tickling his mouth. As Harry's filled out, his hugs have only gotten stronger, literally squeezing the breath out of Nick. It's the best feeling. Nick squeezes back as much as he can manage with his spaghetti arms. 

When they separate, Harry's eyes are red and wet again, and up close Nick can see the sheer exhaustion written into his face. "Oh, Haz," he says, brushing a thumb over Harry's eyebrow. Harry leans into the touch. Nick remembers so many small moments like this between them, quiet touches of fingertips and skin, but none of them as tinged with regret and sadness as this one is. It's going to be tinged blue in Nick's mind forever, even though the room is painted various shades of bright yellow and gold. 

"Why don't you put on the kettle whilst I have a quick shower, and then we'll talk, yeah?" 

Harry nods, still not talking, and Nick gives him a gentle push away so that he can go scrub off the travel grit. For all that he's been given the best accommodations for the trip, sitting on a plane as long as he has isn't a pleasant experience. 

The room looks pretty much the same as it had when he arrived when he comes back out of the shower. Harry's back to his position in the corner of the sofa, but there's a second cup of tea on the table in front of him, and Nick knows without having to check that it'll be brewed exactly how he likes it. Harry immediately cuddles up to him once he's sitting, and Nick settles into the warmth of it with easy familiarity, mostly ignoring the ache in his heart when he does. 

"I don't know what I should do," Harry says when the tea's gone cold without either of them drinking much. "Everyone has a different opinion and lists of pros and cons, and it's too much."

Nick's own public coming out had been such a non-event that he has no idea what to recommend. Just a quick statement in an article about him taking over Breakfast, and everyone had basically known anyway by that point. "Have you talked to the lads about it yet? Or your mum?" 

Harry nods. "The lads say they're behind me no matter what. Mum tells me to go with my heart, but what if my heart takes down everything we've built? I can't live with that." 

Nick hums in agreement. "It's going to be rough no matter what. Have you talked to Jeff yet?" The question kills Nick to even ask, but he's a part of this, too. Nick's been trying really hard not to gloat, even if it's only to himself, that he's the one Harry flew out. He'd like to think it's not just because the pictures are of the two of them. "Should we look through everything, then?" 

"I'm so tired," Harry says. He always sounds half asleep, but Nick's well familiar with all the different shades of it, and he knows that this time he really is. It's after midnight, and Nick thinks they were travelling today, too. "Can we just sleep and talk in the morning? I don't have anywhere to be until afternoon. We did the sound check when we got here earlier today."

"Yeah, alright." Nick gets undressed, again, down to just his pants and a t-shirt and slips into the big bed. There's no sense pretending he's not going to sleep there; They both hate sleeping alone. Harry comes to bed naked, and Nick lets himself look, takes in the new tattoos, the muscles that Harry's packed on. He allows himself a few seconds to take in Harry's cock, impressive even when it's not the least bit hard, and he knows Harry catches him at it, but Nick refuses to be embarrassed about it. 

Nick knows to expect it, but given everything that's happened in the last six months it takes him a bit by surprise that as soon as the lights are out, Harry turns into an octopus; limbs twining around and seeking out Nick under the cover of the fluffy blankets, resting his head on Nick's shoulder instead of on the properly puffy pillows provided by their luxurious hotel. 

It would be so easy, Nick knows, to slide his fingers into Harry's hair and tug him up for a kiss. They've shared hundreds of easy kisses just like this, some leading to more, but for the most part just because they could, because in the privacy of their bedroom, it was allowed. It probably isn't, but he allows himself to take the first bit, anyway, tugging a bit on Harry's curls, feeling the way Harry melts against him, tension bleeding out with each small movement of Nick's fingers. 

Harry mumbles something into Nick's shoulder, which he thinks is, "I've missed you," but he can't be sure and doesn't want to ruin it by asking. And anyway, Harry's asleep right away, leaving Nick with his eyes still open and burningly tired in the dark, unable to relax enough to let sleep take him. 

Nick blinks, and then it's morning, the blackout curtains not quite all the way closed. Besides, there's enough screaming from outside to tell him that people are awake and about. They haven't moved at all in the night; Harry's still curled around him, Nick's arm numb underneath him. He doesn't usually sleep that soundly in such close quarters, especially with Harry, who runs hot all the time. It's like sharing a bed with a furnace; some mornings they used to end up on complete opposite sides of the bed. 

Dead arm or not, Nick welcomes the contact today, letting himself sink into memories of mornings like this at home, quiet and sleepy. At least, as long as they could make it until Puppy started scratching at the door demanding to be let out. He can't reach his phone without waking Harry, and he has no idea what time it is, or how long they have. Much as he doesn't want to, he probably needs to wake Harry up. 

He pokes at Harry's bare shoulder, looking for spots between his various tattoos, just for fun. It's getting harder and harder to do that. "Come on, Styles. It's morning." 

"M'not asleep," Harry mumbles into Nick's skin, burrowing incrementally closer. 

Nick laughs a bit, wheezing out air more than making any sound, and pokes at Harry again. "Up you get, popstar. I need the toilet and you've stolen my arm." 

"S'a good arm. I like it. M'keeping it." Harry's voice is low and rough, rumbling into Nick's ears and going straight to his dick, which is absolutely still interested. 

"Comes with a few attachments," Nick says, reaching over to smooth Harry's rumpled hair back off his face. It's so long these days, but still curling around his ears in fluffy little ringlets. Harry stares up at him, eyes dark in the dim light, but still unmistakably wide and soft. 

"I like them. They can stay, too." 

He sounds so sincere in his half-awake state. Nick wants to cry, a bit. In the bubble of their dark hotel room it's like nothing's changed at all. Instead of saying it, Nick leans over and presses a soft kiss to Harry's forehead, right on the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows and tugs a few times to steal his own arm back. "Really do need the toilet, love. I'll put the kettle on, too," he says, and escapes. 

Nick probably takes too long in the bathroom, splashing water on his face and trying not to pay too much attention to the dark circles under his eyes. He'd checked his phone on the way in, ignoring the notifications and texts from his friends in order to check the time, and it's earlier than he'd thought, just gone eight. When he gets back out into the room, Harry's up and wearing pants, the blackout curtains open, though the sheer privacy curtains are still drawn. There's plenty of screaming outside, and Nick avoids walking anywhere near the window just in case someone has binoculars and can see his shadow passing by it. He's gotten ridiculously paranoid in his old age, it seems. Or maybe it's just this week. 

"I called down for some breakfast," Harry says. "Protein smoothies and bacon and eggs and toast. Should be here soon." He looks more tired now than he had a few minutes ago. Nick guesses it's because outside the sleepy haven of the duvet, reality is crushing down on him again; Nick feels it too. 

"How much time have we got?" 

"A few hours. Press at two downstairs, then we've got a few more hours until we leave for the venue. You can come if you want. I told the lads I was flying you in." 

"They alright with it?"

"They're not happy about the circumstances, but that's not either of our faults. They've not tracked down where the pictures came from yet."

Just like that, it's time to fully break the tranquility of the morning and roll into business mode. Nick regrets, just a little bit, not attempting to steal more of a morning kiss before they had to settle into the hard business. Harry probably would have let him. 

"If there were no consequences, if nothing would change, what would you do?" 

Harry delays answering by fiddling with the espresso machine, passing the first cup over to Nick before turning his attention to making a second one for himself. Nick doesn't press for an answer, because he knows it'll come eventually. Instead, he watches Harry's fingers work the machine with sure movements, showing an easy familiarity with the fancy equipment. 

"I'd kiss you on stage if I could," Harry says into his coffee once it's ready. He doesn't look up for a long minute after. 

Nicks heart is beating wildly in his chest, threatening to burst out of his ribs. He has to fight not to set down the cup and physically hold it in. They've talked about this before, in the too-early hours of the morning, tipsy and sleepy and tired after nights out, or nights in with friends. Nick knows how much it costs Harry to hide this part of himself, when he's naturally so outgoing and open. They're so similar that way, so dependent on the people around them, and Nick can't even imagine what Harry's been through, for all that he's witnessed a good deal of it. 

He shoves his own emotions down a bit so that he can concentrate on helping Harry work through his. It's why he's here, after all, to be the helpful, friendly ex he is. "What are you most afraid of happening?" 

"I don't want to break the band," Harry says immediately. 

Nick breaks just a little bit more at how close that answer was to the surface. 

"I know the other lads are fine with me, at least privately. But what if it costs ticket and album sales? We finish this tour and the crowds die out, venues get smaller again. What then? They'll blame me, and we'll break up." 

Nick puts down his coffee and circles around to pull Harry into his arms. He can tell that Harry's been thinking this in circles all week, since the first picture showed up online, the narrative building in his head until it's taken up all the space not already taken by just being on tour. He doesn't know the other lads well enough to say for sure that Harry's being completely ridiculous, but he's seen how close they all are. 

He smoothes his hand down Harry's back, letting him take his time. Nick's shirt is suspiciously damp by the time Harry pulls away. 

"And then there's you," Harry continues. "Do people stop listening because of this? Do the listening figures drop and you get kicked out of your dream job after having it less than two years? Does being in a relationship with me mean you're no longer getting the right demographic of listeners?" 

Nick ignores the use of the present tense in favor of focusing on just how _much_ thought Harry's put in to the consequences of this whole mess. None of the things he's saying are bound to be on the publicist's briefs, either. They're more prone to talking about media image and marketability. No, these are Harry's most private, personal worries. 

The arrival of breakfast pulls them out of the moment, though. Harry pulls the trolley inside and over to the table, fiddling with the covers on the hot foods while Nick makes his way over to sit down, both their coffees clutched in his hands. 

They eat quietly; not the easy, cosy type of silence they used to have, but it's not uncomfortable either. It's somewhere in the middle: familiarity softening the stress of the circumstance. Eventually, Nick wipes his mouth one last time and sets his napkin over his empty plate. 

"What are your publicists saying you should do?" He asks. Nick's own response to the situation will depend on what Harry decides; he's the one with a bigger market share of fans, the more visible one. Claire had agreed that Nick can't make his own statement without talking to Harry first. 

"Everyone thinks that it'll blow over if we just ignore it. There are pictures, but it's still just The Sun." Harry's still staring at his plate, pushing around the last few specs of scrambled eggs with his fork. 

There's something almost defiant in Harry's posture. He seems more defensive than usual, curled up in himself and not looking Nick in the eyes. Nick really hates seeing him like this, like some of the sparkle that makes him shine so brightly has been stolen away, never to return. "Is that what you want, though? Remember that you're in charge of this. It's their job to make it better for you, but you get to decide." 

Harry forgets that sometimes, forgets that he's no longer a teenager with big dreams on reality TV, moving where he's told to move, instead of a world-wide star with control over his own life, even when some things seem to careen wildly away without him. He shrugs, and it looks like he's doing that thing where he brushes everything off and moves on, but Nick knows him better than that, knows that he's just taking the time to gather the right words.

"I'm tired of worrying about it," Harry says, eventually. He sounds so sure and firm, definitely not an overwhelmed teenager anymore. It takes his breath away, seeing these small glimpses of the man Harry's become in between the hours of clips of him messing about with the lads. "I can't tell where the private ends sometimes. Everyone I care about knows and doesn't care, but watching what I say gets exhausting." 

Nick reaches across to lay a hand over Harry's, stilling his fingers where he's drumming out an anxious beat on the table, the erratic sounds giving away his thoughts more than his careful words do. 

"We can do that. The question is how do you want to? You don't necessarily have to make a statement, you know. You can just stop hiding and trust that people will get the picture. You can put out a press release, or seed a question in your next press conference." 

Harry makes a face at that, and finally looks up to meet Nick's eyes. "Don't want to do it with a stranger, though." There's a half-smile on his lips, and it's the most gorgeous thing Nick's seen in ages. That look promises mischief. 

"You have a plan, then, Styles? Don't keep me in the dark."

~*~

Harry calls for a band meeting first, and the other four lads trip in half an hour later, Zayn still sleepy and half draped on Louis' shoulder. They don't look particularly surprised to see Nick there, even though he's thousands of miles away from where he's supposed to be.

Niall comes over to give him a hug, followed by Liam. "You taking care of him?" Liam asks. 

Nick nods. "Always." He's always been absolutely floored by how much these lads who didn't know each other four years ago love each other completely openly, and without reservation. 

Harry explains the plan in broad strokes, and Nick listens as they discuss the possible fallout. There's something special about it, about being able to sit in the room while they discuss their futures. No movie or documentary could properly capture moments like this, Nick thinks, when they slide seamlessly from the goofy lads they are on stage into the business of actually managing their own work. They're pretty magical as a group, he has to admit. He's always known, but he's never seen it this _close_ before. 

Louis' voice cuts through Nick's thoughts. "You're absolutely sure about this?" he asks, eyes cutting over to Nick. 

Nick can read he implication in it as well as everyone else in the room. Louis isn't asking about coming out, he's asking about coming out _with Nick_. He's asking about the relationship. Nick isn't sure how much they know about the two of them, about the last few months, but they must know something. Probably as much as has happened, really. Harry doesn't keep secrets from his family.

Harry meets Nick's eyes when he answers instead of looking at Louis. "Absolutely."

~*~

"You're not having me on?" Big Boss Ben asks, once Nick collects his phone from the table in the middle of the mess that is One Direction and takes it off speaker. "This isn't somehow an elaborate prank?"

"You just spoke to all of them," Nick says. "I may be clever, but even I can't fake those voices.

"Bring Tina in on it when you get back, so that newsbeat can keep the cycle for a bit. It's going to be big news, but from what you're saying, we'll be the only ones with actual quotes." 

"The plan is just to let things lie once it goes out." 

"I'll make sure there's extra security when you finish on Monday," Ben says before hanging up.

~*~

The boys go off for their lunch and press obligations while Nick eats in Harry's suite. A few of the techs they've brought along for recording purposes set up equipment for them to use later. It's different than his own setup at the BBC, but it's easy enough to understand once they point out which pieces do what. They seem to like that he's familiar with recording equipment in general. It's all wired into a bulky laptop, and one of the techs produces a new flash drive for Nick to take home.

Nick takes a picture to send to Matt and Ian and Fiona, warning them that he's got a big exclusive for Monday, though he doesn't tell them exactly what it is. They can probably figure it out. He then spends some time chatting with Aimee whilst he waits for Harry to get back. 

Harry settles into the business of the interview pretty quickly, which is something Nick forgets that he does, switching parts of himself on and off so easily; dropping from goofy lad into Serious Popstar faster than Nick can blink. It only takes them about half an hour to record all the things that they want to say, and then Harry drops out of work mode and cuddles up to Nick on the couch as he pulls the laptop over to start editing the clips down to ten minutes or less. They huddle together around the screen as they listen to bits and pieces, different versions of questions and answers, watching the screen even though there's nothing to see other than a vertical line running along a squiggly one. 

They stay like that until Harry's alarm goes off, reminding him that he needs to be in the van in ten minutes, and they both jump. Harry presses a kiss to Nick's jaw and then vaults away to gather his things. 

"You can come, if you want," he offers. 

"I'm not supposed to be here, remember?" Harry looks a bit crestfallen. "And I've got to finish this. Besides, I've got tickets for London already. You sent them to me." 

"I suppose," Harry says, lips turning down into an almost-pout. But then he's gone, off to be one-fifth of the world's biggest boyband.

~*~

Nick follows the progress of the show through twitter as he edits, so he knows when they're done on stage, but he remembers that there are always things to do after. People to meet, parties to attend, especially since they've another few days before they have to travel again. Now that he's not on stage, Harry texts him a lot, sending updates every few minutes on what they're doing.

 _There's a party I have to be at but I won't stay too long_ , he sends near midnight. 

Nick is in bed by the time Harry gets back. He sheds his clothes as he crosses the room and falls right in next to Nick, turning off the lights and pulling Nick's phone away from his fingers. It's almost dead anyway. He'll have to charge it before his flight. 

"I miss you, Nick," Harry says, speaking into Nick's shoulder once more. He's had entire conversations into Nick's skin, breath warm, stirring the hair on Nick's chest and making him giggle. "I miss us."

"We were good," Nick agrees. 

"The best." Harry's fingers are skimming over Nick's chest above his t-shirt. Drawing aimless doodles into the fabric. "Do you ever – " He pauses, hand stilling too, resting over Nick's heart. "Do you ever wonder what could have happened? Maybe if we'd met some other way?" 

Nick hasn't really thought about it. He's not prone to those types of daydreams, imagining all the other ways his life could have gone. He doesn't want to, frankly. He's worked hard for a long time and he has his dream. Most of his dream, at any rate. There are a few things left that he'd like to do, things that once upon a time he'd begun to hope Harry could do with him. Listing all the ways in which he'd probably have shot for the moon and missed isn't an appealing way for him to spend his spare time. "Like what, I'm doing local radio in Manchester and walk into your bakery? Have you been on tumblr lately?"

Harry stiffens up, and Nick immediately regrets what he's said. Of course he has, and not poke around to see what insane things people are saying. He tightens his grip on Harry, holding him as close as possible in the dark of the early morning hours. Far too soon Nick's got to leave for the airport to get home in time so that no one knows he's been gone. He can't miss his show on Monday, and Harry's got six months of a world tour to go through. 

"I'll be home in a month," Harry says, shifting away from the path his sleepy confession was taking them. 

_And gone for another five_ , Nick doesn't say. Harry's now physically shifting in his arms, as well. Mouthing at the soft cotton of Nick's shirt, nipping at it in tiny little bites that don't catch any of the skin underneath, but still set Nick's skin on fire. Nick can't imagine any universe in which he doesn't respond to Harry this way, limbs loosening up, letting Harry do what he wants even as Nick manages to say, "This isn't a good idea." 

Predictably, Harry doesn't respond, just rises up onto his knees above Nick, more fluid and graceful like this than when he's standing. It's probably the yoga. 

Harry pauses above him, arms braced on either side of Nick's chest, hips slotted together so that Nick can feel how hard Harry is already. He's not exactly hiding his own response, either. Harry's eyes are dark, glinting in the dim light, but Nick can't quite make out his expression through the hair that's falling in front of his face, so he reaches up to swipe it out of the way, watching as Harry's eyelids go soft and fall half-closed at his touch. 

"Nick," he breathes out, voice more than half a whisper. 

This is still a really stupid idea, but Nick can't deny that he wants this, wants every bit of Harry that he can get, so he pulls Harry in and kisses him. 

Harry sinks down onto his chest, and Nick is suddenly regretting his t-shirt and pants, because they're an added layer between them. Harry seems to be thinking the same things because he reaches down and burrows his hand up under the shirt, over Nick's chest, toying with the hair there as he continues to kiss Nick. 

"Tell me what this is," Nick says into Harry's lips. "Tell me what you want." 

Harry doesn't answer for a long time, mouth occupied with Nick's, which is just fine for the moment. But Nick is a big fan of communicating with actual words, so after a while he pulls back, hoping that Harry will give him a straight answer. 

"Want you," he says, which is about as ambiguous as he can get in the circumstances, and definitely not an answer to the first question. Whoever taught Harry how to answer questions has a lot to answer for. Nick makes a mental note to remind Harry not to use his media training in every aspect of his life sometime. But later. 

"I Want to fuck you," Harry says. 

Well, that's a lot more direct, and definitely of interest to Nick, who hums his agreement and punctuates it by rolling his hips up into Harry's. 

Harry doesn't speed things along the way Nick had expected him to. Instead, he stays where he is, his weight pinning Nick in place, hand between them, over Nick's heart once again. Nick tangles their feet together and hangs on to Harry's shoulders, letting him take control. It's always been Harry's show, anyway. 

Eventually, Harry pulls away and sits up, straddling Nick's hips and plucking at Nick's shirt. "Off," he says. He pulls Nick into a sitting position and helps him drag the shirt up over his head, which hinders Nick more than anything else, his arms getting him tangled in the fabric. Harry plants a kiss on his lips through the white cotton and laughs. Nick's heart feels roughly a hundred pounds lighter as he does, an echo of their old relationship coming back to them.

He emerges to find Harry smiling wide, dimples and teeth on display, and it's like the sun, warm and welcoming and painful to look at and so, so important for life. Nick's life, specifically. He digs a finger into Harry's left dimple and pulls him back in for a kiss which takes a minute to line up properly because they're both smiling like idiots now, the rest of the world forgotten, just for the moment. 

When they break apart again, Nick realises that he's at the right level to bite at the swallows on Harry's collarbone, so he does. He has his own tattoos, so he knows that there's no real difference in sensation over the inked skin, but Harry loves having his tattoos played with anyway, so he nibbles across the swallows and digs his thumbs into the new laurels, fingers inching closer to Harry's hard cock, but not going for it yet. He wants to take his time. 

He tips them over sideways on the bed, and settles in the cradle of Harry's legs, feeling Harry's strong thighs flex around his hips. Nick loves those legs, but he's got more of Harry to map out and explore. Right now, he's got Harry's butterfly in his sights, and Harry's fingers digging into his hair, trying to move Nick around where he wants more contact. 

Nick pulls Harry's arm away, watching as his fingers flex over nothing, now, and pins it to the bed, even though it won't stay there for very long. He bites at Harry's nipple to reinforce his point. "None of that now; it's my turn." 

Harry whines at him, but Nick flicks the same nipple again, watching as Harry arches up into the touch. His hands fly back to Nick, anchoring himself by touching Nick, but he's no longer trying to control Nick's movements. 

Nick traces over random pieces of the butterfly with his fingers and lips and teeth, feeling Harry shift under him. He does the same with Harry's extra nipples, just because it makes him crazy, and not in a good way. They're not sensitive at all, not like his actual nipples, but he whines at Nick to _get on with it_ when he does, like he's feeling the ghost of Nick's touch in the proper place, and it makes him desperate for more. Nick had once spent an entire lazy afternoon driving Harry to distraction by not toying with his nipples. 

Eventually he moves down, eager to explore the new designs. "A laurel wreath for your dick? A bit full of yourself, aren't you?" he asks, before dipping down to taste. "Why does anyone like you, Styles?" 

"It's my natural charm and grace," Harry says, not missing a beat. 

Nick snorts into his skin, because the day Harry has _grace_ is a cold day in hell. Charm, though, yeah, he's got plenty of that. Nick licks up the crease of Harry's hip and bites down on the little bits of soft flesh he finds above Harry's hipbones. Harry is hard muscle and sharp corners except for his smile and this little bit here, and Nick loves it. It's also one of the spots where he can leave a mark and not have anyone know. His other favorite spot is the inside of Harry's thigh, so he goes there next. 

Harry spreads his legs easily as Nick moves down, and Nick takes a moment to appreciate the view in front of him, one he never gets tired of, and probably never will, but he only gets a few seconds before Harry is pushing as his shoulders again. "Come _on_ , Nick." 

"Patience," Nick chides him, but he's smiling through it, so his voice just comes out somewhere in the vicinity of _fond_ instead of _annoyed and fond._ Nick can live with that, probably. He doesn't think about how long he might get to. 

Once he's had his fill nibbling at the soft skin of Harry's inner thighs – it takes a while, in truth – he finally turns his attention to Harry's dick, which is hard and leaking onto his belly, directly between the laurels. He palms it first, gently, not really doing anything more than running his hand over it with a light touch. Harry's so sensitive like this, and Nick is definitely of a mind to get well fucked tonight, which won't happen if he gets Harry off too early. Maybe if they didn't have to sleep at least a bit, he would.

Nick allows himself at least a tiny bit of leeway, though, and leans forward to take Harry's dick into his mouth. He loves this, he's always loved doing this, loved giving his partners pleasure. He loves making people happy, whether it's by doing the radio or by taking their cock into his throat. 

Harry cries out when he does just that. "Fuck, Grim. Forgot about this." Nick knows he's not talking about the act of getting a blowjob, but rather that Nick's doing it. Nick's got a big mouth, in more ways than one, and he knows how to use it. 

He hums a bit as Harry starts trying to thrust up into his mouth, carefully keeping Harry from going too deep too fast with his hands on Harry's hips. It's far too soon when he can feel Harry start to come apart, can hear all the noises Harry makes just before he comes, and with not a little bit of regret Nick pulls off and moves up the bed to kiss Harry, open and wet and messy. 

"Why?" Harry whines out. "Why did you stop?" 

Nick kisses him quiet, hand splayed over the butterfly, petting gently with his thumb. Harry slowly goes still, relaxing against the bed and looking up at Nick with wide eyes when he pulls away. 

"I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you tomorrow so I can take you home with me." It's all he gets, really. A secret weekend in South America, where he doesn't get to see any of the sights, or bring home any souvenirs unless he nicks one of Harry's scarves. He's been weighing his options all day. He's rather partial to the black and pink floral number. 

Harry curls up a bit on himself, like Nick's words are sinking into his skin, touching him where Nick's hands aren't. 

"I'm not – not going to last like this." Harry's fingers tighten on Nick's arm, hard enough to hurt. "I can go again. Promise," he grinds out, hips working against the air. 

They don't make promises, not really. They've always known that parts of their lives are out of their hands, and even if this is a stupid little one, made when Harry is so desperate to come, the words knock around in Nick's head. In the end, he can't really deny Harry much of anything, so he smashes his lips against Harry's, hard, and bites down on his bottom lip before moving back down to Harry's cock. 

He presses his thumbs into the laurels while he sucks Harry's dick, feeling the jump of Harry's abs under his fingers, keeping his hips pinned down to the bed. Harry might have come down from the immediate brink before, but it doesn't take long to get him back there, twisting under Nick's hands as much as he can in the space allowed. 

Harry tugs on his hair when he's close, but Nick doesn't back off, wanting to taste Harry. Nick can feel the erratic beat of Harry's heart as he gets close to coming, can feel it fluttering under his fingertips, matching the pounding in his own chest, not synched up in the least, but at last in the same key. 

Harry comes with a low cry, chest heaving as he spills into Nick's mouth. Nick swallows him down, and doesn't stop, not until he can feel Harry start to go soft in his mouth. By the time he moves back up to be even with Harry's face, Harry's eyes are half closed, and there's a dopey smile on his face, completely loose and relaxed. Nick darts in to taste that smile, the only one that very few people ever get to see. 

"Don't fall asleep on me, popstar." He grinds his hips up against Harry, demonstrating that he's still hard up here, and that getting himself off isn't why he flew halfway around the world. He's not quite desperate yet, though, so he contents himself with kissing Harry through the aftermath, his own leg thrown over Harry's..

Nick can feel Harry's energy returning; it's like switching on a light. At least, one with a dimmer switch. Harry opens up wider under him, pushing back, eventually rolling Nick over onto his back and climbing on top of him, heavier than Nick remembers. He's made of slim muscle, deceptively skinny. Nick makes a grab for Harry's hips as he settles, holding on tight and loving how easily he can grab him nearly all the way around this way. 

Crushed together like this, he can feel Harry getting hard again, god bless his non-existent refractory period. Nick remembers being that young, too. 

"You have condoms somewhere, young Harold?" he asks. Harry nods a yes against his lips before rolling away to go fetch them. 

Nick takes the opportunity to get the right way around on the bed again, propping himself up on pillows and waiting. Harry comes back after a minute, holding a couple of condom packets and a small bottle of lube. He's also back to his full-toothed grin, and Nick knows he's perfectly up for round two. Good. 

He sweeps his hands down his torso in an exaggerated presentation. "How do you want me, Master Styles?" 

Harry falls onto the bed and curls into Nick's side. "Just like that," he says into Nick's ear. "I want to watch you while I'm fucking you." 

Nick has never figured out how Harry looks so innocent when he constantly sounds like he's just woken up after a night of rough sex, but the contradiction is one of the things Nick loves best. Innocent face or not, he's got an absolutely wicked smirk on his face as he reaches down to wrap a hand around Nick's dick. He bucks up into it, feeling his own desperation building already. It's been far too long since he's gotten laid, and even longer since it was with Harry, who knows Nick's body as well as Nick knows Harry's. 

Harry's not stalling tonight, though. After a few pulls, he leans back over to the night table to grab the lube, drizzling it on his fingers and scooting down the bed, his mouth even with Nick's hip. He smears the lube all over Nick's legs as he moves them around so he can get at Nick's hole. 

"Eager are we? Get mixed up there?" Nick asks with a tug on Harry's hair as he reaches for the lube again. Harry doesn't seem too put out about it, though. And Nick doesn't mind; he's going to need a shower later anyway. Harry just grins into his hip, and nips at the skin there, before moving his hand down between Nick's legs, opening him up. 

Nick's forgotten how long Harry's fingers are, and how well he knows how to use them. If Nick was verging on desperate before, he's definitely there now, between Harry's fingers in him and Harry's mouth on his hip, working on what's probably going to be a rather spectacular love bite. 

He lets Harry get as far as two fingers in him before Nick pulls him up and reaches for the condoms. It's a compromise, because Nick really does want to feel it in the morning, but Harry's always been so concerned about hurting him. He can lie the fuck down for the entire flight thanks to his first class tickets. 

"Come on, Harry. It's time." He rips open he condom packet and rolls the condom onto Harry before wrapping his legs around Harry's waist and pulling him in with his heels. 

Harry gets the hint without too much more effort. Harry's hands are warm on his thighs as he pushes them back. Nick's not all that flexible, and he can feel the burn, but it's good, especially since it's Harry causing the burn. 

His worry line makes an appearance as Harry lines himself up and starts to push in, and as always, Nick reaches out to smooth over it. 

It does burn a bit, but it's the way Nick wants it; he can feel Harry sliding in, filling him up in one long smooth movement. Harry stops once he's all the way in, leaning down to kiss Nick gently. 

"Was that alright?" Harry asks. 

Nick laughs and hits him in the cheek, gently, before kissing him again. "Get on with it," he says. He's not going to fall for Harry's trap and praise him, at least not yet. They've barely begun. 

Harry starts slowly, building up his rhythm until he's working his hips with more coordination than he ever shows on stage, long rolling strokes that have Nick arching up to meet him every time. Neither of them are paying much attention to Nick's dick yet, but he can wait. Even though he's already come once, Harry's not going to last much longer; he's starting to lose his rhythm, arms straining to hold himself up. 

Nick drags Harry down for a kiss, wet and messy and uncoordinated as Harry's hips stutter and he comes, collapsing down on Nick's chest. A minute later, Harry hasn't moved, and Nick is definitely feeling a bit left out, so he rolls his hips and pushes at Harry's shoulder.

"My turn now," 

Harry's lazy in the wake of his orgasm, but he moves when Nick tells him to, pulling out carefully and tying off the condom before bending to take Nick's dick into his mouth. He's gotten so much better at this than he was at the beginning, learning that his lips weren't everything when it comes to sucking cock. 

He's still a bit sloppy, but it hardly matters when he looks up and meets Nick's eyes, fringe hanging in his face and sticking to his sweaty forehead. He reaches down to slip two fingers into Nick as he continues to work Nick's cock, fingers slippery and searching for Nick's prostate. 

It takes a minute, but he eventually finds it, and Nick lets him know with a gasp and a tug to his hair. Nick's getting close, can feel his orgasm building in his spine and his fingertips, rolling into him slowly until it bursts out again. Harry pulls off and Nick spills onto his own stomach and Harry's fingers. 

Harry wipes them off with a corner of the sheet before crawling back up to the pillows. Nick can see him opening his mouth to ask, so he answers first, "Yeah, you did good," and kisses him again.

Harry's definitely getting sleepy, mouth going slack under Nick's own, and eventually he falls asleep where he is, half on top of Nick, breathing through his mouth into Nick's neck.

~*~

Even though he's the one who put it together, seeing _Harry Styles Prerecord_ on the schedule at the meeting Monday morning before the show makes Nick go a bit dizzy and clutch his coffee tighter. They're really doing this, though. He'd woken up to a text from Harry this morning, _bricking it_. Nick knows he'll be awake and listening, even though it's going to be on ridiculously early for them. He's already told Harry he'll call as soon as they flip over into Happy Monday at half nine.

Matt lets him loose with enough time to drop into Tina's studio and give her the head's up, promising a clip once they get the interview up into the system, which will give her two hours to write a script for the bit. She can do that, she's a professional. He drops by Gemma's, but he's so wired that the link he spends chatting with her is weird. Gemma's fairly giggly and energetic for the early hour anyway, the four AM starts not having broken her spirit yet. Nick's weird mood means he's giggling as much as she is, and he _can't_ tell her why. At least not on air. 

She hugs him tight when he does, then sends him off to his own show. By the volume of texts and tweets that come in as soon as he announces that there's a mystery guest everyone knows what's up. It's been hard to miss the daily republishing of those pictures from The Sun, but Nick isn't allowed to actually say it. Miraculously, though, it doesn't seem as though anyone's figured out that Nick wasn't in London over the weekend, and he lies like a rug when Matt asks him about it in the second link. 

Nick is pretty sure the team are ready to kill him by the time he fades out _Hideaway_ at eight twenty. 

"And now, as promised, we have our much anticipated mystery guest on line one!" He fades up the prepared clip, and listens to his cheery _Good Morning, Harry Styles!_ Nick is used to pretending that all hours of the day are weekday mornings for pre-records, but he can't help but remember Saturday afternoon when they're recorded it, holding hands under the table, anchoring each other as they'd talked about their past for the world to hear. 

_The tour is absolutely amazing so far,_ Harry's voice is saying. _We've never played venues this big before, and the energy is indescribable. There's nothing like getting up on that stage with your best mates and having thousands of people watching you and cheering for you._

_It's your first time in South America, are the crowds any different than they are at home here in London? We're known for being well reserved._

Harry is, as ever, very diplomatic in his answer. _All our fans all over the world are wonderful. There's no such thing a bad audience for us._

And then it's time for the tough questions, the hardest part of the interview. _So you might have missed this since you've been off on the other side of the world playing sold out stadiums, but there's been a story about you in the papers over here for the last few days._

They'd tried gone through so many wordings of that question before ending up with this one. It had been Harry's idea to keep the focus on him, treat it as though it's someone else even though everyone can tell it's Nick, his name's been in all the headlines, too. 

_I have seen those pictures_ , recorded-Harry says. _I didn't know they were being taken at that moment, and I'm sad that they've come out the way they have. My hope is that people will recognize that those pictures were of a private moment with someone I care about very much, and the pictures were taken and sold without either of our permission._

Nick hadn't wanted to ask the next question, but Harry had been adamant. _How are you holding up? What have fans been saying to you?_

 _It's been mixed_. Harry's voice is a bit strained, and this had been the part of the interview that was hardest on both of them, bringing up the ugly side of twitter and the internet generally. Nick's been ignoring his twitter feed since it broke, strictly sticking to his lists of friends. 

_As a band, we're all about being ourselves, and this is me. I was out with someone I care about, and I hope people will understand that. It's hard, doing what we do, with all the travelling and the crowds and cameras, to have steady relationships, especially one like this, so I hope our fans and the papers will respect that and give us some space._

The answer has to be so carefully worded so as not to confirm anything more than what was in the pictures, and even though Nick had argued that Harry had implied they're still together, Harry had been adamant about keeping that in. But that's the end of the hard questions, and Nick breathes easier. 

_So what's next for you lot? Where are you going next on your sold out world tour?_

_We are headed to Uruguay next. Then Brazil. After that we're coming home, spending about two weeks in the UK and Ireland. And of course we'll see you at Big Weekend in Glasgow._

_It's your first time at Big Weekend, is that right?_

_It is, and we're so excited to share a stage with so many amazing acts._

_Who's your favorite? Who are you looking forward to seeing most?_

_Obviously it's going to be your shirtless duet with Ed Sheeran._

They'd wrapped up the interview after that. Nick fades out after Harry says goodbye, and rolls into Newsbeat, slumping over into the chair as soon as the music comes up. Matt and Ian and Fiona crowd around him for it, and he buries his face in Fiona's hair. It's done, it's out, and now maybe they can move forward. 

By the time Nick is ready to leave the building after work, there's a scrum of photographers outside, more than he's seen since his first week doing Breakfast. Fiona walks out with him, through the narrow path security's managed to hold, and Nick does his best to keep his head down and ignore the rude questions they're all shouting at him as he moves through the courtyard to his waiting car. There are a few more photographers and fans waiting outside his flat, but while he's normally happy to stop, he'd rather not today because he has a phone call to make. He waves at them and goes inside.

~*~

Nick's not sure what to expect when he gets on the train north to Glasgow on Thursday after his show ends. It's a long trip, and he's already terrible at sitting still, but he's pretty sure Matt is ready to throw him under the tracks about thirty minutes in. Nick is unsettled and jittery, and unable to concentrate on the schedules that they all have sitting in front of them.

He's interviewing One Direction on Friday morning, then introducing them on the stage, but he doesn't get to stick around for their set because he'll be immediately shunted over to interview Bastille. He's seen Harry's schedule for the week, and they'll barely have time to see each other at all. Nick had hoped that Harry would come back to London during their break, but Harry had gone back to Los Angeles whilst the other lads had come home. 

"I just – I need to take care of some things here," Harry had said. He'd sounded so exhausted that day, before their last South American show. Nick knew he was talking about Jeff, but he hasn't had the courage to ask what Harry had meant, and they haven't talked since. Nick will not admit to spending slightly more time on tumblr and twitter than normal, checking to see where Harry's been, and who he's been photographed with. It hasn't helped much, as Harry's managed become very adept at disappearing into the smoggy crush of LA. 

He still doesn't hear from Harry when the lads get to Glasgow to do their sound check and setup for the festival, and he doesn't hear from them when they leave again, taking their private plane back down to Dublin for their own show. Just looking at their travel schedule for the weekend is making Nick dizzy. 

Nick is more than halfway to drunk at the George Square event, listening to Annie go through her set, and feeling pretty good. It's been a good day, if a long one, and while he has to be up in the morning for work, he doesn’t have to be up at half five for work, so he's letting himself go a bit. It's not even midnight yet, he can stay out a bit longer and not worry about oversleeping. 

He's just getting into the swing of Annie's music when he feels the atmosphere shift, just a bit. People are talking to each other, and Nick catches more than one furtive glance his way, where he's standing just off the side of the stage. 

Sure enough, the crowd parts and Harry pushes through, followed by Zayn. Nick immediately has an armful of popstar, and allows himself a few seconds to fully relax into it, completely conscious of where they are this time. He pulls back and looks at Harry as best he can in the flashing lights. He still looks tired, even though he's vibrating. Nick wonders if it's all left over from the show or whether it's something else. He tries not to get his hopes up for the latter. 

He shoves Harry away for a few seconds to say hello to Zayn, who looks like he's about to wander off for greener pastures at any minute. Harry's hand finds the small of Nick's back as Nick leans forward. 

Zayn shakes his hand and comes in even closer. "Take care of him, like. Don't break his heart again." 

This isn't the right venue to get into how it had been Harry who had suggested the breakup, too busy traveling to be a proper boyfriend and too soft-hearted to watch the awful comments pour in every time they went out together. Nick hadn't minded either of those things, so long as he could call Harry _his_ , but he hadn't the heart to say no, after Harry had explained through tears that he thought it was best for both of them. 

He wonders what Harry had told them at the time. Instead of asking any of those questions, he reaches back to grip Harry's wrist tight in his own while he tells Zayn, "I'm not planning to." 

Zayn gives him a considering look, but nods, and wanders off to find a drink, which means Nick can finally turn his full attention back to Harry. 

"You alright?" 

Harry nods, bringing his arm halfway up before freezing and letting it fall again, looking around the tents at all the people dancing around them. The sidestage area isn't as crowded as the floor, but there are still a considerable number of people, and there are definitely photographers running around in the crowd. 

"Can we go?" Harry asks, leaning in to speak directly into Nick's ear. "I've got a hotel room." 

Nick tries to make a joke of it, "Are you propositioning me, Harry Styles?" but regrets it instantly when he sees the worry line between Harry's brows make an appearance. He tugs on Harry's wrist, still caught in his fingers. "Let's go, then." He had plans to stick around until Annie's finished, but she'll understand. He'll text her later. There's a short walk back to the hotel, and Nick pretends not to see Harry's bodyguard trailing behind them, instead choosing to focus on the feeling of Harry's slim wrist in his, warm against the cool spring air around them. 

There are people surrounding the front of the hotel, holding signs and wearing lots of merchandise with Harry's face. And the other lads. It's a solid wall of noise, and Nick has absolutely no idea how they're meant to go through that. 

"It's like this everywhere?" Nick asks. He's seen the pictures and clips, of course, but it's something else entirely to have it right in his face. 

Harry just shrugs. "We can go round the back if you like. Or I can go first and you can come later when you won't be noticed." 

Harry sounds like he doesn't care either way, but it's definitely a lie. His worry line is back, and he's looking at Nick with wide eyes, searching for Nick's answer. They're still across the road, hidden mostly out of sight in the dark space next to the streetlight. Nick estimates that he's got maybe a minute before someone looks their way and sees them. 

He takes a chance, and brings his hand up to the side of Harry's face. "What do you want to do?" 

Despite what Harry had said to him in Argentina, it's different to contemplate when you're standing in front of a sea of people with cameras, holding hands and walking into a hotel room in the middle of the night. But Harry doesn't pull away. He twines his fingers into Nick's and leans into his space a bit more. They were standing close together already, but now Harry's almost leaning on Nick. 

"It's not going to be easy," Nick says, tucking Harry's curls behind his ear. Harry immediately shakes them out again. "It'll be worse than it was before." It's going to be so much worse for Nick than it is for Harry. He's never shared the worst of his twitter feed, and Harry's never said if he's gone looking for it. Nick's pretty good about letting it roll off him these days, but sometimes it digs under his skin, and he calls Aimee and Collette over for a few emergency glasses of wine. It's probably something they'll have to talk about eventually. 

"I don’t fucking care, Nick," Harry says, voice getting louder. Not enough to carry all the way across the street, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Harry's bodyguard getting a bit restless. They shouldn't be having this discussion by the side of the road, anyway. 

"Alright then, let's go inside." Nick doesn't pull his hand out of Harry's. It feels like a statement, and maybe it is. 

Before they emerge from the dark, Harry darts forward and plants a quick kiss on Nick's lips. It's small and chaste, and there are no immediate screams, so Nick's fairly sure they got away with it. It still feels huge, though, so he squeezes Harry's hand until he can find the right words. 

The screaming does start when they're about halfway across the road, probably prompted by the hotel's security coming out to clear the path. Harry apologizes constantly as he moves through the crowd, close behind his bodyguard's back, and Nick close behind him. Harry waves to all the girls as they pass, but he ducks deftly past their outstretched hands. 

He never lets go of Nick's.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a bit of ambiguity about Harry's relationship with Jeff in the beginning of this, and it can be read that they're in a relationship, or at least dating a bit in the beginning. I never quite settled what they are in my head, but Harry's at least thinking about future possibilities. 
> 
> Come find me on tumblr! [Glitterbootsandyellowshorts](http://glitterbootsandyellowshorts.tumblr.com/)


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